


The War Diary of James Levine

by nausicaa82



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Capsicoul - Freeform, Diary/Journal, Happy Ending, Jewish Character, M/M, OC is USO Hitler, Pining, References to Suicide, USO Days
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-05
Updated: 2013-02-05
Packaged: 2017-11-28 07:07:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/671651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nausicaa82/pseuds/nausicaa82
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve is sent an unusual package after the Battle of New York that (thanks to Phil) is certified to not have magic, anthrax, or nude pics in it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The War Diary of James Levine

**Author's Note:**

> This is for my friend who challenged me to write a story with Steve and the strangest pairing I could think of with the caveat that Steve actually has to have met the person (so it couldn't be Shakespeare or the like).
> 
> So... I ended up choosing 'Hitler' from the USO show. It morphed into Capsicoul. 
> 
> This is unbeta'd, I welcome people politely pointing out mistakes so I may correct them.

Pepper handed the package to Steve and then started on Tony’s schedule.

“I know he’s getting a lot out of your sparing. However, he needs to be showered and dressed for the design meeting by 2:15 so Happy can get there by three. Please help him do so; he listens to you.”

Steve looked at the opened cushioned envelope that had been addressed to him care of Stark Industries. He didn’t recognize the return address.

“I’m getting fan mail at Stark Industries?”

“Yes, and I hope it doesn’t become a thing.” She sighed and slightly rolled her eyes. “I already contacted S.H.I.E.L.D. PR to make sure it’s pushed to send packages to them and not the office or God forbid the tower.” She checked her phone at the alerts that were going off. “I took it over last week but it was re-routed back to SI. It’s been run through the scanner, so it’s safe - no magic or anthrax or nude pics.”

Steve’s eyebrows arched. “Nude pics?”

Pepper looked up from her phone. “I think Phil has a standing order that those aren’t to be passed on to you.” She winced into a smile and her voice softened. “To be fair, I would ask the same thing if you were my….” She rotated her hand in tight circles as if she was conjuring the right word to come up. “My… my Steve,” she chuckled.

“Do you have a similar request in place for Tony?” Steve asked.

At that she barked a laugh. “No, Tony Stark doesn’t answer his fan mail. I have a person on staff just for that. Sorry Steve, I’ve got to jet. Remember-2:15, Happy will be waiting for a dressed and pressed Tony, ready to go.”

“Got it, Pepper. You can count on me.”

She kissed his cheek, got on the elevator, and left Steve’s floor. He had a few minutes before his combat training session with Tony in the gym, so Steve sat down in the leather club chair by the windows that over looked downtown. He reached in the envelope and pulled out two items: a folded piece of stationary and a familiar small journal faded and ragged at the corners. Steve unfolded the letter and began to read.

_October 17, 2012_

_Captain Rogers,_

_After seeing you on the news last spring, I had my granddaughter find your address on the computer. You knew my brother during the war. He was so proud to have called you a friend. When he left us, he asked that I destroy his papers but I just couldn’t bear to destroy this. It was something that was a part of him, something I could still hold on to. Now you’re back, I wouldn’t want it in someone’s hands that would use it against you._

_I never stopped loving James, and after some time I could not even be angry at him anymore. Seeing you in your uniform again, I could hear his voice so clearly, telling me stories of your time together. If you are even half the man now that he said you were then, I know you’ll know what to do._

_May God bless you in your future endeavors, Captain Rogers._

_Sincerely,_

_Mrs. Franklin Rosenberg (nee Anna Levine)  
West Palm Beach, Florida_

He re-read the letter and this time paused on the “destroy his papers” part. The directive was clear enough; if that is what the man had wanted, Steve could destroy the book. It was the right thing to do, even if his sister would not. However, even after the second reading, he was still at a loss on who James Levine was.

Steve looked out at the overcast clouds and skyline. In his mind’s eye, he ran through all the faces of the people he knew from the Army and SSR.  
  
James Levine:  
A fellow cadet at boot camp?     
   No.  
A scientist working in the labs with Erskine?     
   No.  
A POW he freed from Hydra?     
   No.

He slowly studied the book in his hand. It was the standard journal the military issued. Steve had only sketched in his, not needing to write anything down. He thought he would remember everything whether he wanted to or not. And he did; everything it seemed except a James Levine.

Guilt crept over Steve as he strained to remember this man who had been so proud to know him, who had spoken so well of Steve that his family trusted him with his diary.  Steve looked around the room nervously to make sure he was alone, and then slowly cracked the book open. He scanned the pages for clues, trying hard not to really read the entries. He just needed a little something to help him remember before he carried out the man’s wishes.

Levine had not written every day, and after a few entries about life in the Navy, Steve found one that had his name.

 

_-=-_

_July 10, 1943 – San Fran_

_Had leave and went to a show at the theater downtown today. Captain America-the most striking man I’ve ever seen, even wearing a mask and tights. The show was good; I even bought a bond after in the lobby. As I was leaving, a fella came up to me and asked if I had ever done any acting before. I told him about the plays in high school, but not anything since. He grabbed my arm and pulled me back into the theater and behind stage._ _He crowed to some other fellas and they all got excited. I didn’t understand until one of them slapped me on the back and said “with a mustache and some grease, he’ll be a perfect Hitler.” I about damn near socked him right there._

_I tried to back out, told them about Uncle Sal and Mariam, how I couldn’t tarnish my family name by being **him** \- even if he is a fool and loses. But they were so convincing, told me how much the show was helping the effort, that before I really knew it, I was signing the papers for a transfer. I at least got them to use a stage name- Jimmy Payton should be good enough for the playbills.   _

-=-

 

Steve fumbled the diary as everything clicked into place. He could not place a James Levine but he remembered a Jimmy Payton, their time on the road, the trip to Europe, and the last time he saw him in person. Steve took a few breaths to calm down, to root him back in the present and reached for the book now on the floor. His hands were still slightly shaking.

“Ok, I’ll destroy your diary, Jimmy… just as you.…” Steve trailed off as he felt a sudden empathy with Mrs. Rosenberg’s inability to let go of a piece of her brother. He opened it back up to the page he had stopped, and despite knowing it was wrong, he couldn’t help but to read on.

 

-=-

_July 11, 1943 – San Fran_  
  
 _The weather was sunny and warm. The sky was blue with white clouds. Everybody smiled at me and I smiled back. Everything I ate was better tasting than anything I’d ever had. My chest feels like it is going to burst and I can’t dare to sleep least I wake up and find the whole day has been a dream. Today I officially met Captain America, Steve Rogers. I never thought I’d meet someone so handsome as he. He’s like a movie star, larger than life, and just swell. He’s tall and fit and has amazingly blue eyes that remind me of the sea in all the best ways._

_We had rehearsals for the new show. I sneak up from behind the chorus girls during his speech but before I get the drop on him, he turns and throws a hook at me and I flop to the ground. I’m sure I’ll be black and blue on my ass from hitting the ground so much, but I know it’s better than what I’d get on the front._

_New show will start tomorrow, for once I’m glad that my beard grows so fast. I’m nervous, but Steve assured me it’ll be ok that even if **I** trip, it would only make the show better. He’s the one that’s gotta be perfect. I’m pretty sure he is. _

_-=-_

_Aug 15, 1943 – Kansas City_

_Four shows a day, 6 days a week. I hate it, and I love it. I hate acting on Sabbath, but those are our biggest shows. They want to add a 5 th show but Steve protested it’d be too much for him. I know better. He said it for the girls’ sake. I’ve never seen him tire or get winded on stage, but the girls go from the show to their rooms and barely any go out at all. Some are definitely getting skinny. Steve asked me if I thought he could throw his weight around to get more potatoes with our evening ration. I’ve never seen him eat his-always giving them to one of the smaller girls, telling them they don’t taste as good as his Ma’s. Then he just smiles at them like they are doing him the favor by taking his food. _

_-=-_

_Aug 17, 1943 – Omaha_

_I’ve been on the road for almost a month. Steve’s the only one who really talks with me at all. I think it’s the mustache. No matter how I comb my hair off stage, the damn mustache makes me look like **him.** I hate it. At least the girls have stopped calling me Adolf; I suspect that’s Steve’s doing. _

_-=-_

_Sept 1, 1943 – St. Louis_

_I told Steve he must be an odd duck to play cards with this ugly mug after the shows every night. He claimed his bravery comes from being able to punch at me on a regular basis. We laughed but the best part of my day is the half second on stage when I think that Steve will actually make contact, will touch my face. But every time he pulls back, and I fall away from him. Most likely for the best as this isn’t my face, it’s **his** face, and it’d be a punch, and not what I really want. _

_-=-_

_Sept 9, 1943 – Dallas_

_Tonight Steve and I went out after the show. We couldn’t stand staying in the room another night. At the bar, a wise guy tried to impress some dame by picking a fight. The guy and his friend got two hits on me, then Steve jumped in and the fight was over. We got out before the cops or the papers showed up. I’ll have a shiner by the morning. I hate this mustache._

_-=-_

_Sept 10, 1943 – Dallas_

_Steve came back to the room this morning with a bag full of things for me. He’d gone out to the Woolworth’s and bought some make-up, a wig, and a candle. We made a duplicate mustache, cutting the hair and sticking it together with the wax. After I shaved, I saw my own face in the mirror again, started to cry, but didn’t want to in front of Steve. He seemed to know, gave me a hug and said now both of us can take off our masks after the show and just be us._

_-=-_

_Oct 20, 1943 – New Orleans_

_We aren’t staying in cities for very long any more. Venues are bigger and bigger. Each night it seems like a couple of dames try to see a little more of Steve, but he just smiles and signs their playbills like he doesn’t know what to say. Each night we play cards, read the papers. He doesn’t sleep much; he’ll draw into the late hours. I’m so tired from traveling that I can fall under at the drop of a hat. He says I’m a good bunk mate as I don’t snore and will sleep even with the light on. I say he’s a good bunk mate because he is Steve._

_-=-_

_Oct 23, 1943 – Atlanta_

_We talked today about what we wanted to do after the war was over. Steve talked about trying to get on as an illustrator maybe in advertising. I hadn’t thought of anything beyond wanting to still spend time with him, but I told him I’d go back to keeping books. He pressed, knew that isn’t what I really wanted. I then said I what I really wanted was for the ration to be over and have cake again. He said he’d go for that as he’s never had a proper birthday cake._

_-=-_

_Oct 29, 1943 – Miami  
Turned 34. Steve asked if it was ok to give me a gift. He gave me a pair of socks he had knitted, and I told him it was a tradition for me to give gifts as well-- could finally give him the drawing pencils I found in St. Louis without it being too odd. He gave me the best smile when he opened the package. I’m counting that as the best gift I’d ever got. _

_-=-_

_Nov 4, 1943 – Memphis_

_Started feeling under the weather today, but nothing too bad. May just be the weather._

_-=-_

_Nov 10, 1943 – Chicago_

_Can’t shake this cold, but I can still go out and fall down each show. Steve is real concerned and rubs my back when I get into a coughing fit at night. His hand is warm and feels so good. The near punch is no longer the best part of my day. As he rubs he just looks at me like he is the one that can’t breathe. He has given me his potatoes from dinner for the past couple of weeks._

_-=-_

_Nov 19, 1943 – New York_

_Still congested, but after the shows we went to some of Steve’s old haunts and his smile makes it easier for me to breathe. Got the word that we’re headed to Europe to have some shows for the boys. I’m a bit nervous about the plane ride._

_-=-_

_Nov 23, 1943 Italy_

_Disaster. Ear drum burst en flight. The pain was so bad I felt as if I was going to die or at least pass out. Steve held me, kept a warm cloth on my face, and whispered comforts in my good ear for the three remaining hours of the flight. I didn’t want to, but I cried. He told me it was going to be over soon, that I didn’t need to cry. I couldn’t tell him I was crying because it felt so good to be in his arms and **that** would be over all too soon for me._

_-=-_

_Nov 24, 1943 – Italy_

_Still not sure where the hell we are. The medic said I have an infection and must rest. So I wasn’t in the show tonight. It’s rainy here. Last night I woke up and Steve was in my tent, dozing in a chair next to my cot. His hand was on mine, and when I stirred, he said he was worried I was too cold out here. I nodded and he got behind me on the cot, pressed up against me, and I never felt so happy in my life to have chills. When I woke up he was gone but there was still his dent on the pillow. I can’t stand it anymore. I am going to tell him tonight after he gets back from the show._

_-=-_

_Nov 25, 1943 – Italy_

_Steve went missing after the 1 st show yesterday. Wasn’t hungry for the mutton soup they brought to me. _

_-=-_

_Nov 30, 1943 – London_

_Steve is still gone. Rumors fly, but I dare not write them least they be true._

_-=-_

_Dec 2, 1943 – London_

_They’ve cancelled the show. We are heading back stateside tomorrow. Medics think I’ll be ok, but they don’t know that I won’t be without him there._

_-=-_

_Dec 5, 1943 – New York_

_Discharged today since doctors said the deafness in my left ear is going to be permanent. Still no word on Steve._

_-=-_

_Dec 10, 1943 – New York_

_Today on the train, I almost died. The man across me was reading the paper, and I saw his name. Steve has appeared the hero I knew he was. I started laughing like a mad man, all prayers and wishes I ever had-- fulfilled, better than I could have imagined. My knees gave out and I fell to the floor. Bumped my head but felt no pain._

_-=-_

_Dec 15, 1943_

_Got a job at Stark Industries in Manhattan. Steve had mentioned Stark as one of the guys who he’d met before. They build weapons, so at least I’m still helping even if I’m just running a payroll._

_-=-_

_Dec 23, 1943_

_I received a letter from Steve today. I can now write him letters, but I don’t think I can write what I actually want to tell him. Not sure he could either. Work is good. I feel like I am helping the front even if I can’t be there. Bought another bond with my first paycheck, ‘putting a bullet in my best guy’s gun.’_

_-=-_

_March 14, 1944_

_Work, home, sleep. Sleep is the best. Ma asks why I don’t go out. Steve hasn’t been able to write much, but I stay consistent. I dream about the war being over and his coming back to New York. It’s almost like it has been on as long as I can remember._

_-=-_

_Sept 7, 1944_

_I saw Steve today in a newsreel. It hit me hard and I gasped seeing his face huge up on the screen. He was hard at work, fighting, doing his part like he always wanted. I saw he had a dame’s picture in his pocket watch. I left before the cartoon started._

_-=-_

_Nov 11, 1944_

_Everyday feels the same. Steve must be busy. I haven’t received a letter in over a month._

_-=-_

_April 3, 1945_

_Steve’s missing again. I’m sure he’ll show back up like he did last time. He’s good at these things; it’s the radios that fail._

_-=-_

_May 8, 1945_

_We won Europe. Everybody is kissing in the street and smiling. But Steve’s not come back yet; he should have been back by now._

_-=-_

_June 11, 1945_

_Saw today that SI is searching for Steve, or at least they are budgeting for it. I know they’ll find him soon._

_-=-_

_July 3, 1945_

_Tomorrow’s the day. I know it. Steve wouldn’t miss his birthday. I bought him a drafting table and put a pretty blue bow on it. I’ve got my uniform ready for the parade, and then I’m going to make a his cake._

_-=-_

_July 5, 1945_

_Cake didn’t taste as sweet as we had imagined it would, but then again nothing tastes good anymore. He’s not coming back._

_All I want is to be with him again._

-=-

 

Steve quickly flipped the pages trying to find another entry, but the rest of the diary was blank. His stomach started to knot as he thought back to the comments in the letter about Mrs. Rosenberg no longer being angry at her brother.

“JARVIS?” Steve asked without looking away from the book.

“Yes, Captain Rogers?”

“Can you please bring up any public records of a James Levine born in 1909?”

The window in front of Steve’s face darkened into a screen and displayed three files. Steve touched for the last one to magnify, and then silently read his friend’s death certificate from 1945.

He leaned back in the chair and thought for a long time of how brave Jimmy had been to take on the worst possible role in the show. Steve swallowed, overwhelmed that Jimmy was going to be even more courageous, stop acting, and confess how he really felt. Steve suddenly realized Mrs. Rosenberg was right-- he knew what to do. He had always known; he had just been too…

A smooth British voice interrupted his thoughts, “Captain, I am sorry to disturb you, but it is now 1:45 pm and…”

“Damn it!” Steve sprang out of his chair and raced toward Tony’s lab.

After helping Tony get ready and to the car for his meeting, Steve hopped onto his motorcycle and sped out of the tower’s garage. He arrived at S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters relatively fast despite the terrible traffic and made a beeline to Phil’s office on the twenty-third floor.

“Captain Rogers. I didn’t know you were coming in today.” Phil looked up from the papers on his desk. “Please come in, I have a few minutes before I’ve got to go to my meeting at 1500 hours.”

Steve swiftly closed the door and walked behind Phil’s desk to kneel down next to him. Their eyes were almost level, and Steve took Phil’s hands in his.

“Phil…” Steve’s mouth suddenly felt very dry, but he set his jaw and was determined not to back down. “I’ve spent most of my life sleeping and even though my eyes have been open these past nine months, I don’t feel I’ve been awake until just now, and I realized I haven’t had the courage to live the life I really wanted. There’s been so many truly brave people come into my life and we know that it is just as easy for them to suddenly go out. Our line of work seems to make it even easier than I really want to admit.

And the truth is if I’m being brave, the life I want is the one I’d have with you. If I’m being brave, the truth is I love you more than anything or anyone else, Philip Coulson. You make me happier than I ever could have imagined, like I belong, like I’m complete. You make me feel like I don’t have to wear any kind of mask at all. You make me feel like I never want to be apart from you. And the truth is, as scary as it is to say, what I want most is for you to say you feel the same way about me.”

Steve searched Phil’s face and saw his eyes starting to shine and his lips slowly curling into a quivering smile. Phil moved his hands to caress the back of Steve’ neck and pulled him in for a kiss. As it ended, he leaned in closer, his lips brushing Steve’s ear. Then he whispered, “Steve, of course I feel the same way about you.”

 

\---

As the two walked down the hall, Phil held his phone against his ear.

“Hill? Yes, this is Coulson. I can’t make it to the meeting…. I have to go home… yeah… I have a funny feeling in my chest and you know…. Yeah, I’m going to see someone… most likely be in bed the rest of the day….”

Steve squeezed Phil’s other hand and smiled.    

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [The Happy Ending of James Levine](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3190271) by [NevynSlash](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NevynSlash/pseuds/NevynSlash)




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